


Covenant

by perihadion



Series: Sanctuary [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perihadion/pseuds/perihadion
Summary: "She wondered what it cost him to be vulnerable: surely everything."Post-"Redemption". With time to take a breather and under the impression that the danger has passed for now, the Mandalorian and the Child return to Sorgan for a visit. Din and Omera discuss the shape of their relationship.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Series: Sanctuary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586530
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	Covenant

Din and Omera watched the sun set together from the barn, as the children played outside; it was quiet, domestic. There were a lot of things Omera wanted to say to the Mandalorian but she never knew how much of what she meant, what she felt could penetrate the beskar — and how much glanced off it like a stray blaster bolt. In the end she put her ungloved hand over his gloved one, and he tilted his helmet towards her so she knew that he had felt it.

She took a deep breath, and smiled gently, before glancing up at him and saying, “Do you remember that night?”

He sighed, “Omera.”

She threaded her fingers through his. “The sky was so clear I thought we could see every star in the galaxy. We walked together, out of the village. I took your hand and my fingers brushed the bare skin between your glove and your sleeve. Your pulse was racing, and we —”

“Omera, stop,” he said, pulling his hand from hers so that he could turn and face her. “I remember.”

She smiled up at him. As if against his will, he raised his hand and ran a gloved thumb along her jaw, over her mocking lips. She put her hand over his. “It doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” she said quietly.

He dropped his hand, and turned to face the window again. “It does,” he said.

“But why?” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, trying to make him face her again. He looked down at her and she met the point where she knew his eyes were.

“Because,” he said, “it would never be enough, what I could give you.”

She scoffed at that, and turned her gaze to the children. It was the golden hour, where everything felt unreal. Soon it would be dark, and Winta would be asleep in bed, and Omera would lie awake thinking of the smallness of her life.

“What could you know of what would be enough for me?” she said.

He sighed, metallic under the beskar. She wondered what it might have felt like to feel that soft sigh against her skin, if he had taken the helmet off that night. “I mean for me,” he said. “It would never be enough — for me.”

She looked at him again, but found she had nothing to say.

After a moment he said, “And I’m afraid.”

She frowned. “Afraid?”

He paused for a long time, and then took a deep breath. She wondered what it cost him to be vulnerable: surely everything. The silence hung between them like a veil for what felt like hours, and then he said, “I’m afraid that if I keep coming back, the more time I spend here — with you — the more I will forget. Who I am, what I do. The choice I made. The vow I took. And one day it will seem like nothing just to break it.”

She put her hand on his shoulder again, but gently. The beskar was cool and smooth under her palm. Cold and holy. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes,” he said. “I would lose myself entirely.”

She let her hand slide from the pauldron and find the cloth covering his arm. She imagined him closing his eyes as she put her hand on his bicep. “Then why come back at all?”

“The Child,” he said. “Winta — he missed her. He missed this place.”

“That’s the only reason?” she asked, gripping his arm.

“No,” he said — an almost inaudible confession — and she found herself pulling him into her, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. One of his arms was around her shoulders, the other at her waist, gripping her so tight she thought it might bruise but not tight enough still. He was hard and cold and soft and warm, and she tilted her head to press kisses along the edge of his helmet as though it were his jaw.

“It’s enough for me,” she whispered against consecrated metal, and she heard him sigh as he shifted against her.

“The children —” he started to say as she pushed her fingers under his helmet to find the soft hair at the back of his neck and she laughed.

“I told Winta she could take the baby and stay with her cousin.”

He pulled back, and she knew he was searching her face; yes, she said with her eyes, I knew it would go this way. She wondered how much he wanted to kiss her, leaned up and pressed her mouth to the helmet where his must be.

*

“I can feel it,” he said later. It was pitch dark in the bedroom where, earlier that day, Omera had blotted out any source of light — and she knew now how it felt when he sighed against her bare skin. He was running his fingertips down her spine, making her shiver.

“Feel what?” she said, resting her head on her forearm and looking up at where his face must be. At least in these conditions he had no advantage. She was as invisible as he was.

“When you touch the beskar,” he said. “Like a vibration, the echo of a real touch.”

She smiled to herself in the dark: the echo of a real touch. What they had was, in every sense, an echo of a real thing. But, for her, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/theoceanblooms) or [tumblr](http://spectroscopes.tumblr.com)! If you really liked this fic, it would be lovely if you could [reblog](https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/189928004779/1m1vekrY) on tumblr.


End file.
